


Meeting in the Stacks

by LeeBlack



Series: Wolves at Your Door [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: Stiles flinched when a hand suddenly brushed against his waist, only barely able to stop himself from jumping into the bookshelf in front of him. “Shit, Peter, I know you said I had to be accompanied because I’m a human in a witch shop, but the bad touch chaperone is unnecessary. I’m in the book section, I’m not going to break anything.”Only to be answered by a chuckle that did not belong to the werewolf in question.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wolves at Your Door [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720972
Comments: 15
Kudos: 800





	Meeting in the Stacks

Stiles flinched when a hand suddenly brushed against his waist, only barely able to stop himself from jumping into the bookshelf in front of him. “Shit, Peter, I know you said I had to be accompanied because I’m a human in a witch shop, but the bad touch chaperone is unnecessary. I’m in the book section, I’m not going to break anything.”

Only to be answered by a chuckle that did not belong to the werewolf in question.

Instead of Peter, he found himself looking at an older man wearing sunglasses and what was undoubtedly an expensive suit. The white cane held in the hand not still resting on Stiles’ waist was an interesting accessory. 

“Peter?” he called, pitching his voice a bit louder and squirming out of the man’s hold.

“Your wolf is speaking with the shopkeeper about the terms of the terms of what I assume is your sale,” he said, the British accent taking Stiles by surprise. “This shop doesn’t permit sales to humans.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man.

“So, tell me, what is an unchaperoned human doing in a shop like this?”

He was saved from having to answer as Peter rounded the corner, letting out a low growl when he saw the man standing so close to Stiles. “Alpha Blackwood,” he said, eyes flickering between his supernatural blue and his more usual, glacial blue. “Stiles, get behind me,” he said, the growling tone suggesting he wasn’t keeping himself under as tight control as usual.

Stiles did as told almost before he could think about it, though he couldn’t stop himself from peering over Peter’s shoulder at the man.

“Hale,” the man said mildly. A red tint began to glow from behind the sunglasses. Alpha. “I see the rumors are more than true. Quite the miraculous recovery you’ve made.”

Peter inclined his head slightly. “You’re a long way from your territory in Lassen.”

The man nodded, a small smirk on his face. “You had to know someone was coming. The Council has operated for centuries with the sole purpose of preventing exposure to humanity. Beacon Hills has had far too much activity as of late to avoid scrutiny,” he said. “You’re lucky I was able to leverage my prior relationship with your family to ensure I was the one they sent.”

“There’s a Council?” Stiles asked, visibly perking up. “Like a legit werewolf council?”

The man chuckled again. “You’ve never struck me as the type to take in a pet, Hale.”

“Hey!” Stiles snapped. “I’m not a pet!”

“He’s not particularly housetrained, but there’s a certain charm to him,” Peter said evenly, reaching behind himself to grab a fistful of the fabric of Stiles’ hoodie. A silent warning, perhaps, or a plea of some sort. “Very deep down.”

Stiles scowled at the back of Peter’s head, opening his mouth, an argument at the ready.

“We are still establishing ourselves,” Peter said, cutting Stiles off before he could get started. He tightened his hold on Stiles’s hoodie. “Young Packs are traditionally permitted lenience.”

The sudden nick of claws on his stomach clued Stiles in that Peter was much closer to losing control than he’d thought. He fell silent, turning his focus onto Peter rather than the stranger in front of the two of them.

“Yet the upheaval in Hale territory has caught the attention of the Council, suggesting a need for more immediate intervention.” He cocked his head to the side. “You are well aware of the edicts of the Council, Peter.”

He nodded. “We need time, Blackwood.”

A brief pause, an inscrutable expression flitting over the other man’s face before settling back into a more neutral mask. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Hale, and you have my sympathies for what you’ve been through, but I have my own Pack to look out for. The rules are clear. None of us can afford exposure.”

Peter let out a low growl.

The other man opened his mouth to reply, eyes glowing red from under the tinted lenses of his sunglasses.

Only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Gentlemen, this is not the place to conduct your business,” a young woman said as she rounded the corner. “You were both aware of that when you first walked in, and I do not take kindly to my rules being disobeyed.”

Peter nodded, not breaking eye contact with the other werewolf. “My apologies,” he said. “Stiles, let’s go,” he said, tightening his hold on Stiles’ hoodie and pulling him out of the shop. He kept moving until he was back at his car, opening the passenger’s side door.

“Hale,” the man said from just a few steps behind him.

“Oh good, he’s following us,” Stiles said, the comment coming out less snarky than he’d intended.

Peter let out an unhappy rumble but didn’t so much as slow down.

“Hale. A moment before you leave.”

“Get in the car, Stiles,” Peter said, wrapping a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and getting ready to shove him inside.

“Dude, chill with the cop routine! I can get in a car on my own!”

The man let out a low warning growl that Stiles felt more than heard. “Peter. I would prefer to keep things polite with you, given our history.”

Peter turned to face the man again, still keeping himself in front of Stiles. “Deucalion, you are an Alpha approaching members of another Pack without seeking prior permission from their Alpha,” he said. “For one so dedicated to upholding the edicts of the Council, that action is sanctionable, our history aside.”

That gave the man a moment of pause. “Then allow me to grant you a measure of mercy.”

Peter stayed silent, watching the man warily.

“Per the Council, this inquiry cannot begin until the day after a full moon.”

“I am aware of the statutes.”

“Wait, the full moon is next week,” Stiles commented. “Shit, are we going to die next week?”

Peter stiffened but didn’t say anything.

“I can grant a measure of lenience and delay this inquiry until the next moon.”

“The Council will not object?”

“I expect they might, but they are also well aware of our shared history, so my request will not be entirely unexpected. I hold enough sway that I can guarantee you that measure.”

Peter was silent for a brief moment before speaking. “My Pack appreciates your mercy, Alpha Blackwood,” he said, tone deliberately level and detached.

Deucalion frowned. “Peter, my respect for your Pack has long been nonexistent. I am extending this mercy solely for you.”

“Then you have my gratitude, Deucalion,” he said quietly.

That elicited a small smile from the man as he offered his hand to Peter. “I expect you and I will find each other again in short time,” he said. “Even if only to discuss terms, love.”

Peter hesitated for a moment before taking the hand. 

The clasped grip, complete with claws and a quick flash of blood welling from a new gash running the length of Peter’s forearm had Stiles feeling less than confident. It didn’t look deep, but it wasn’t healing that quickly - and oddly enough, Peter hadn’t so much as flinched as it was inflicted.

"Is that supposed to happen?” he asked, face going pale at the sight of the blood.

“He is rather new, isn’t he?” Deucalion asked, cocking his head to the side. “Will he be worth the time it takes to train him?”

Peter laughed quietly, ignoring the indignant huff behind him. “Time will tell,” he said, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down to cover his wound. “Do you have any message I should pass on to my Alpha?” he asked.

Deucalion hummed. “Nothing I would have you convey on my behalf,” he said. “I will be speaking with your Alpha soon enough as it is.” He paused only briefly before taking hold of Peter’s hand.

Stiles watched, curious, as Deucalion’s hold shifted to be almost identical to the hold Peter had had on his wrist in the parking garage what seemed like an eternity ago. “Peter?” he asked quietly.

Peter, for his part, just made a low, not entirely unhappy sound in the back of his throat.

“It is truly a blessing from the moon to see proof of your recovery, Peter,” Deucalion said. He pressed a kiss to Peter’s palm. “I am pleased to see you well. News of the fire spread quickly, but to hear what was done to you was heartbreaking.”

“I appreciate your concern, Duke,” Peter said, sounding almost uncertain.

The man smiled and pressed another kiss to Peter’s palm. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Wouldn’t want your proof to heal up and cause trouble for you,” he said. “And I expect your pet has questions.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, the comment escaping before he could think better of it.

Deucalion chuckled. “Such fire,” he said. “I expect we’ll be speaking again soon.”

“I look forward to it,” Peter said, not pulling his hand out of Deucalion’s hold. “Stiles, get in the car or I will shove you in the trunk,” he said, tone mild.

He grumbled under his breath but did as told.

Peter shut the car door as soon as he was inside, exchanging a few more words with Deucalion before the older wolf headed toward a towncar on the other side of the parking lot.

As soon as Peter got into the driver’s seat, Stiles opened his mouth, a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue.

Peter held up a hand, watching the towncar pull out of the parking lot. “I’ll answer your questions when we’re not within the wards of a particularly powerful witch,” he said. “How do you feel about In-N-Out?”

“Like it was sent from the gods,” Stiles said. “Your treat, right?”

He snorted. “If you can hold your questions until after I get the food.”

...

A little more than half an hour later, after a quick stop in the drive-thru lane, they’d returned to Peter’s house, where the older man had wrapped a kitchen towel around his forearm before spreading the food out on the kitchen island.

Stiles had stayed quiet for most of the ride home, both overwhelmed by what had happened and unable to shake the feeling that Peter seemed almost ... nervous about his questions. The wolf had had his claws out, digging into the leather of the steering wheel, almost the entire ride. Finally, around a mouth of french fries, his limited stores of patience expired. “So you and that Deucalion dude know each other?” he asked, trying for nonchalance.

Judging by Peter’s snort, he’d missed that mark. “We do,” he said.

Stiles watched him for another moment, waiting for an elaboration on that. When none came, he rolled his eyes. “Peter, you know I have no problem pestering you with questions until you threaten to rip my tongue out and beat me to death with it,” he said. “And you also know you get less bitchy about my curiosities when I don’t have to ask a million questions about whatever you’re talking about.”

Peter hummed. “True,” he said. “Though I do so enjoy threatening various and sundry acts involving your tongue,” he said with a wicked smirk.

The teenager went bright red, choking on his fries. “Dude, you can’t-”

“Oh, I most certainly can,” he said, pointedly taking one of the fries off of Stiles’ plate. He paused only for a brief moment. “Alpha Blackwood and I have known each other since I was about your age, actually. He’s an Alpha of a stable territory further north in California.”

“And he’s decided to, what, come on some kind of Council-mandated vacation to Beacon Hills? And what’s with this whole Council talk anyway? Is there really a-”

Peter held up a hand, stopping him mid-question. “There really is a Council. It’s comprised of some of the most powerful Alphas on the continent, and they’re tasked with ensuring the continuation of our existence. Deucalion has been a member to that Council since a few years before the fire,” he said. “It’s not entirely surprising that he’s the one sent.”

“What, because of your history?” Stiles asked, momentarily distracted from his other questions.

He nodded. “Something like that.”

“Is that why he clawed up your arm?” Stiles asked. He nodded toward Peter’s arm, where the gash was still concealed underneath a towel and Peter’s sleeve. “What kind of history is it?”

“He sliced my arm because he usually tends to abide by traditional methods when possible. In the more old-fashioned Packs, when hostilities tended to escalate without much provocation, messengers who had encountered a foreign Alpha who needed to discuss something with their Alpha. They’d make a mark that bares the scent of that Alpha so that when the wolf speaks with their Pack, they have proof that they weren’t trying to sow any sort of discord.”

“Shit was that bad?”

Peter shrugged. “It was used when the wolf sending the message was not particularly trusted by their Alpha. Or when the visiting Alpha did not trust the resident Alpha.”

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly, doing his best to absorb the information. “And why’s the Council sending some strange Alpha here?”

“They’ve been tasked to ensure that the knowledge of our existence does not become a widely-known fact,” he said. “Not only is there the risk of exposure to hunters, but there’s a greater risk of exposure to humans at large. Risks of being hunted on a mass scale, captured for experimentation, or attempts to weaponize us, among others.”

Stiles let out a heavy sigh, unable to stop his gaze from drifting toward Peter’s bookshelves. “Yeah,” he said, recalling some of the older books the man had let him read. “People sometimes suck.”

That startled a small smirk out of the older man but he didn’t comment any further.

Stiles hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure what the reaction would be to his next question. “And what about your history with Deucalion?” he asked. “With the whole kissing of your hand and all?”

Peter was silent for another moment. It looked like, for a brief moment, he was forcing himself to stay composed. “He and I spent some time with each other before he was appointed to the Council.”

“And that’s all I’m getting out of you about that, huh?”

“Unless you’d like me to recall in vivid detail one of the times he convinced me into bed with him?” he asked with a wicked smirk, all previous nerves out of sight.

Stiles went bright red, stammering out a quick denial. His eyes glazed over a bit as his imagination caught up with what Peter had said.

Peter waited just until the spiced cinnamon scent of arousal hit his nose before he reached over and flicked Stiles between his eyes.

The younger man startled almost violently out of his stool, stopped only from toppling over as Peter grabbed hold of his elbow. When he made eye contact with Peter, his blush returned full force. “Um-”

“I’m willing to ignore this incident for now, given that you’re a teenager and I am an exquisite specimen, but I’d much rather not have your hormones tainting the food,” he said. “Did you have any other questions for me, pet?”

Stiles was silent for a long moment. He glanced at Peter out of the corner of his eyes, ears going red again, before shaking his head. “Nothing that I honestly want an answer to,” he said quietly.

Peter laughed, grabbing another french fry. “If you change your mind, I’m certainly happy to indulge, pet. Far be it from me to stifle the imagination of a young man such as yourself.”

Stiles went bright red again, turning his attention fully onto the pile of fries in front of himself.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao scratch that note from the last piece; writer's block has returned with a rabid vengeance >:/
> 
> a genuine thank you to those of you who offered your assistance, but I'm afraid I'm still floundering on that end of things


End file.
